


Satin

by JackyJango



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Attempt at Humor, Blindfolds, Established Relationship, Food Sex, M/M, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Spanking, Use Of Powers In Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 22:50:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14091438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango
Summary: With an absent flick of Erik's powers, the first canister from the tray floats over them in an elegant arc, and stops right above. Erik straighten, and upon his instruction, Charles angles his head to the side. The canister above them slowly releases beads of a cool dark liquid that glides down the pale column of Charles’ throat. The telepath's breath hitches around a sharp inhale, and his hands tightens immediately over Erik's arm.'Relaxliebling,’ Erik whispers before diving down to lick the liquid and prevent it from falling on to the sheets. He swipes his tongue in a broad swipe to absorb the incoming trickle, working his tongue and lips in tandem to drink off of Charles- pulling the soft flesh into his mouth, using his lips to suck and tongue to lick greedily over the heated skin.





	Satin

**Author's Note:**

> A long time ago, I grew one ball and began writing cherik smut. Very recently, I grew another ball and decided to post what I had written.  
> Needless to say, if this isn't you kind of read, then please back out or tread carefully.  
> For spoilers, see the End Notes.
> 
> This isn't beta read, so all mistakes are my own.  
> Hope you enjoy!  
> Cheers!

 

* * *

       'Are you ready?’ Erik asks, holding a maroon satin band in hand, the cloth thick and silky. Charles takes a deep breath, and glances at the side table beside the bed, where five cylindrical metal canisters are sat on a matching metal tray. He exhales slowly, nodding in quick succession and spreads his knees wider. Charles isn't nervous, Erik knows, this is all his idea after all. Taking the invitation, Erik begins to crawl from the foot of the bed to the spot between Charles’ thighs, like a tiger cornering its prey into the thickets. Not that Charles minds, for he only watches Erik's every movement with unmitigated amusement, a knowing spark lighting his eyes.

When Erik reaches the spot between the Telepath's knees, he slides the length of his body along Charles’ in a slow glide, aiming for maximum contact and achieving it. The latter drawls out a soft _‘oh’_ ; so soft that only Erik catches it.

'No cheating, or you'll be punished,’ Erik bends and whispers hotly into the Telepath's ears. Charles makes a pained noise at that, but when Erik lifts his head to look at the other's face, there is only a mischievous glint in his eyes, like he's looking forward to it. With a smirk, Erik drapes the rectangular cloth over Charles’ eyes, tying the ends behind his head in a way that wouldn't be uncomfortable, but also wouldn't allow Charles a view of the proceedings before him..

Erik sees Charles’ profile beneath him; stark naked, ivory skin flushed against the maroon satin sheets, back propped up by an army of pillows, feet planted firmly on the bed with his knees parted wide to accommodate Erik and fisting his hands uselessly in the sheets. The younger man licks his lips unconsciously, the action reddening his cherry lips further, almost close to the rich maroon of the cloth above it. Erik knows that the action is in anticipation of a kiss, but he doesn’t give in.

Without warning, Erik ducks down to the spot beneath the younger man's jaw, and inhales a lungful of Charles’ scent. The Telepath smells of soap and mint and vanilla. Erik didn't know that he could be turned on by just the smell of vanilla until Charles happened. He begins trailing light kisses over the smooth skin where Charles’ jaw meets his neck. Though Charles stills at the unexpected movement, he relaxes quickly before bringing his hands to rake down Erik's back.

With an absent flick of Erik's powers, the first canister from the tray floats over them in an elegant arc, and stops right above. Erik straighten, and upon his instruction, Charles angles his head to the side. The canister above them slowly releases beads of a cool dark liquid that glides down the pale column of Charles’ throat. The telepath's breath hitches around a sharp inhale, and his hands tightens immediately over Erik's arm.

'Relax _liebling_ ,’ Erik whispers before diving down to lick the liquid and prevent it from falling on to the sheets. He swipes his tongue in a broad swipe to absorb the incoming trickle, working his tongue and lips in tandem to drink off of Charles- pulling the soft flesh into his mouth, using his lips to suck and tongue to lick greedily over the heated skin. Charles’ telepathy coiled at the back of his head is broadcasting a low hum of arousal now instead of amused curiosity from minutes ago. Erik repeats his motions on account of the drops of liquid still falling from the canister, until the Telepath’s pale skin turns to a dark shade of pink. He’s sure that there will be purple marks blooming tomorrow. Erik decides very quickly that purple is going to be one of his favourite colours. Beneath him, Charles’ breath quickens, and there is a hardness forming against his stomach where Charles’ hip is flush with his. There’s a freckle on Charles’ throat that Erik has come to love, a little right of his adam’s apple, almost on his jugular. Erik licks, and then sucks on it, like trying to lap off the sprinklings from an ice cream.

‘Mmm,’ Charles hums in appreciation, broadcasting a low tide of arousal. Erik can feel the vibration of it, on his lips, on his tongue, in his mind and in his bones. Charles’s fingertips rake lazily up and down Erik’s back; the sensation is almost ticklish.

Erik collects the next few drops of liquid on the tip of his tongue and begins a slow hike up Charles’ jugular. He keeps his pace agonisingly slow, balming every inch of the area with the mixture of the liquid and his saliva. If he concentrates enough, he can feel the iron in the blood behind the delicate skin. With Charles’ quickening pulse, every influx of blood travelling south sends a bolt of arousal through his own veins. Erik moves against it, trailing his tongue up the marble pillar of Charles’s throat all the way to the spot behind his ear. Erik knows each and every one of Charles’ sensitive spots. After his nipples and neck, Charles is very sensitive here. He nuzzles and teases with light kisses, ignoring the ring of Charles’ impatience in his mind nudging him to move on, and move fast.

Without preamble, Erik bites, pulling the skin and the soft flesh with his teeth. He can feel the iron pumping through Charles’ veins so strongly now that he only has to bite down a little harder to pull the blood out. He loops Charles in with the sensation to how his blood pulses near Erik’s teeth before moving on its journey south.

‘Oooh,’ Charles moans, low and deep; his blunt nails biting in their own way on Erik’s back.

The ignored threads of liquid have collected at the hollow of Charles’ throat, at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Trekking his way back, Erik closes his lips around the pool, and sucks the liquid in a loud slurp. Another tide of arousal hits him, this one stronger than the previous. He could get off Charles just like this.

With a fleck of his power, Erik straightens the canister above, floats it back to the tray while simultaneously lapping at the dip of Charles’ skin, trying to clean it with his spit.

Erik lifts his head and drags his body up against Charles’, kissing his parted lips. Not expecting the move, Charles gasps around Erik’s lips, but quickly takes the cue, sliding his tongue against Erik’s in a wet sinuous glide. The Telepath plunders Erik’s mouth, flicking his tongue in every which way, trying to taste every indent of his teeth and gums. Erik lets him. Lets him suck on his tongue, and lets himself get lost in the wet heat of Charles’ mouth. He almost forgets that he needs to breath.

A dizziness hugs Erik’s mind. Recognising that it’s not his, he breaks himself from the kiss, leaving Charles panting under him, lips bright and swollen and parted in lust.

‘What is it?’ Erik whispers to Charles’ lips.

The question is like pouring a bucket of cold water in Charles’ mind, for he can feel the gears of the Telepath’s mind finally turning in reluctant thought.

‘I want another go,’ Charles says. One look at his red lips, and Erik is tempted to oblige. No. That cycle would never end. Also because he can’t help himself, Erik bites Charles’ lower lip and says, ‘No, that’s all you get.’ After another beat, he asks again: ‘What is it?’

‘It was bitter Erik,’ Charles says, tasting around his own mouth with his tongue. ‘And a bit smokey. Whiskey?’

‘No. Wine,’ Erik admits, pressing his half hard cock firmly against Charles’, prompting the latter to whine.

‘One-love Charles,’ Erik breathes before beckoning the second second canister from the tray beside them.

A murky liquid bleeds down from the second container, coating Charles’ left nipple evenly and hiding the pink beneath it. Planting his hands on Charles’ sides, Erik attacks the said nipple. The younger man whimpers at the contact, and his breaths leaves him in jerky puffs.

Owing to Erik’s earlier ministrations, Charles’ nipple is already hard. Erik begins a slow message with his lips, beginning at the tip of the nipple and ending at the outer ring of the areola. He pauses and looks at Charles’ face, but from this angle, there isn't much he can see without letting go. He doesn’t need to see Charles’ face to catalogue his reaction, per say. The Telepath’s ragged breaths under his head, the flush covering his neck and chest, the slight tremble in Charles’ legs and the strong current of want circulating in the room is proof enough that Erik’s doing his job right. So Erik begins from the the periphery of the areola, collects the liquid, drags his lips in concentric circles towards the hard nub and releases it with a wet pop.

‘Eriiiik,’ Charles cries out, bringing both his hands to bury in Erik’s hair. Erik repeats the cycle, again and again.

Charles his completely hard now, his erection trapped with Erik’s own.

‘Don’t stop,’ Charles commands between breaths, arching his back to find more purchase. Not that Erik was planning to. Making sure to not touch the pink pebble, Erik trails the tip of his tongue in a maddening circle around the areola, smearing the liquid against it. Round and round and round and round. So consumed in his own desire is he, that it takes him a moment to notice that Charles has sacrificed his right hand on Erik’s head to take care of his other abandoned nipple. Erik quickly catches Charles’ right wrist and hoists it above his head, pinning it there with a hand of his own. With Charles blindfolded, he doesn’t see it coming. The Telepath whines at the loss of his own hand, and begins to nudge Erik’s mind to switch sides.

Erik does none of that. In retaliation, he grinds down on Charles, causing both their arousals to flare instantly.

‘Erik,’ Charles moans again silkily, dragging the vowel. The sound goes straight to Erik’s dick. Charles is so close now that if Erik doesn’t stop, he could come just like this, pulling Erik along with him.

Erik bites down on the nipple, tugs it up, pulling Charles’ chest up before letting go with a scrape.

‘Aaah,’ Charles breathes airily. The hand still fisted in Erik’s hair tightens painfully. Without giving pause, Erik straightens the canister above them, and attacks Charles’ mouth.

The kiss is like a battle, the one Erik readily loses. He gives in completely to the heat of Charles’ mouth, the latter hungrily devouring his own. Charles is torn between sucking on Erik’s tongue and sucking on his lips. So tries to do both at once in a frenzy. Bolts of pleasure spark from Charles’ blunt fingers digging into Erik’s scalp, travelling the long line of Erik’s body from head to cock.

Erik is consumed by another tide of want, this time from Charles. It’s a dual sensation, the way it is always with Charles, the body and the mind. Unable to bear the onslaught, Erik abruptly breaks the kiss, leaving Charles bewildered and panting below him.

‘What is it?’ Erik asks, not surprised by the rasp in his voice.

Charles looks confused, realising only now of what is being asked of him. He doesn’t even take a moment to wonder before he blurts out impatiently, ‘It was tasteless. Water maybe?’

‘No, it was milk.’ Erik replies, and smugly watching as a fierce red engulfs Charles’ skin.

‘Erik!’ Charles says heatedly, his hands blindly moving to bat at Erik. The protests are without heat, of course, and Erik dodges them all.

‘Two-love Charles,’ Erik says and wiggles his fingers. The third canister on the tray replaces the second one in the air. Positing it above Charles’ stomach, Erik gets on his knees. The action sends both their stiff cocks to stand at attention against their stomachs.

Erik takes a minute to admire his handiwork. The bruises on Charles’ throat have already begun to darken, creating a mosaic of light and dark skin. Charles’ chest is glistening with his spit, and only one of the Telepath’s two nipples is swollen and dark.

A thick fluid fills Charles’ naval when Erik tilts the third canister. He straightens it and leaves it hovering in the air before ducking down to kiss the flat surface of Charles's stomach. There’s a softness to it that Erik likes. He begins by trailing slow kisses southwards before reaching Charles’ naval. Trailing the tip of his tongue against its periphery, Erik settles against it. The new position puts the tip of Charles’ neglected cock snug against his chin, so much so that the leaked drops of precum spread across Erik’s chin.

Charles’ hands are fisted on a handful of sheets on either sides, his face devoid of emotion, his breathing controlled and his telepathy almost muted in Erik's head. Charles is trying very hard to stay still and rein himself in.

Ignoring the heaviness between his own legs, Erik dips his tongue into the thick liquid,  simultaneously grazing his stubbled chin against the tip of Charles’ cock.

A dam breaks in Erik's head, and floods his system with ecstasy, overtaking his senses and stilling him in place. It’s like being swallowed whole by a cauldron of frothy churning water, unable to escape. When it passes, it’s a miracle that he hasn’t come. Erik realises very slowly that the sensation was not his at all.

Charles is panting when Erik looks up at him, his chest heaving with the action.

‘It’s cinnamon syrup,’ Charles says between huffs of breath, his voice wavering like waves of an ocean.

'That’s cheating Charles!’ Erik says feigning indignation.

'Right. Don't I have to be punished?’ Charles purrs, smirking. If his eyes weren't blindfolded, Erik is sure that the blue marbles would be glassy. The Minx.

Erik wordlessly gets up on his haunches and turns Charles carefully to the side. Stroking down the curve of Charles’ flank and hipbone, Erik kneads a handful of the plush arse. The soft flesh gives away under his palm. In contrast to his gentleness, Erik stills for a beat before slapping hard. The muscles of his arse ripple, and Charles moans seductively, arching his back. His pale skin flushes immediately, Erik's dull red hand print taking shape. A strong wave of lust courses through Erik's body at the sight and sound alone. Combined with Charles’ desire rummaging his mind, Erik has half the mind to fuck Charles this instant. So he breathes, slow and steady, in and out, willing his animalistic instincts to take the back seat.

'Three-love Charles,’ Erik says smugly.

With a quick wave of Erik's wrist, the third canister settles against the tray, and the fourth slots itself above Erik's hands. Propping Charles’ leg above his shoulder, Erik noses at the inside of Charles’ knee. A thin sheen of sweat lines the pale skin, magnifying the gathering of freckles, like grains of desert sand under the hand glass. Erik licks it with just the tip of his tongue, and trails his fingertips down the thickness of Charles’ inner thigh all the way down to the junction of his hips. It has the desired effect, for Charles shivers, fisting his hands in the sheets helplessly. A big drop of precome shines at the tip of Charles’ length.

_Stop teasing_ , the telepath sends to Erik, but his mental voice lacks finesse or stability.

_I’m not teasing. I’m just playing along. This was your idea. Remember?_ , Erik replies, all the while swirling the tip of tongue on Charles’ heated skin.

_Yes, I do. So bloody get on with it!_

Well, when Charles puts it like that, who is Erik to disobey?

A thick liquid pours out of the metal canister when Erik tilts it, and trails lazily down the pillar of Charles’ thigh in a single channel, like a river snaking over white desert sand. Erik ducks his head and stops the flow with his tongue. Steadying one hand on Charles' left calf, Erik slowly drags his tongue upwards, trying to collect the heavy liquid on his tongue and drink it at the same time. It’s become almost impossible now to ignore the waves of lust spinning around them, cocooning the two in a world of their own. Half of Erik wants to end all of this and fuck Charles right away, but Erik resists falling into the temptation. So he focuses on the feel of Charles’ skin under his tongue instead, the saltiness of the sweat that tingles his taste buds now and then, the thickness of the liquid on his tongue and the the way Charles' muscles twitch under his hand.

Once he reaches the base of Charles’ knee, Erik straightens the canister. Despite his best efforts, some of the liquid has escaped him, so Erik repeats. He begins to lick down Charles’ thigh, swiping his tongue in broad strokes. Charles moans when Erik stops to suck a bruise into the base of his inner thigh, and a hand comes to fist in Erik’s hair that pushes his head lower.

Erik chuckles. Two can play this game.

Still sucking on the tender skin, Erik dips his rights hand, and ghosts his fingertips over Charles’ hole.

A scream slips Charles’ lips, and a current of want lashes into Erik’s mind, strong and ruthless, treading down his body and threatening to engulf him, like a live wire let loose in water. Before Erik can recover, Charles speaks between uneven breaths, voice hoarse and unsteady, ‘Cream. Double cream.’

‘Four-love, Charles,’ Erik says when he’s sure that he has regained his breath. Turning Charles over to the other side, Erik rubs his palm over Charles’ unabused arse cheek. The other cheek has reddened considerably. Erik has left a lot of love marks on Charles, some for others to see and some for the just the two of them. But every mark Erik leaves on Charles spurs a dark possessiveness in him; a basal instinct brought to life. When Erik smacks his hand over the pale arse cheek, a matching hand print joins the first.

‘Erik,’ Charles moans, drawing the vowels in his posh accent, like satin rubbed against soft velvet. The sound goes straight south, where Erik’s cock jerks for attention.

Fuck, Erik realises, this is a losing battle.

_If you don’t move on, and fast, I’ll make you do what I want,_ Charles sends to him.

‘Aren’t you already doing that?’ Erik quips, but proceeds to obey Charles nonetheless.

Erik lifts both of Charles’ knees and hitches them higher, such that the telepath’s feet are planted on the sheets, creating a valley between his legs. With a snap of Erik’s fingers, the fifth canister floats through the air and stills over Charles' hips. Erik settles further down the bed between Charles’ legs, and growls the moment his cock touches the sheets below him. No doubt feeling the sensation in his mind, Charles begins to chuckle. The light sound of his voice cuts through the thick air around them. But those chuckles soon turn into gasps and groans as a golden fluid descends down the canister, and coats Charles’ balls evenly.

It’s Erik’s turn to chuckle now.

Straightening the canister, and depositing it back in the tray, Erik experimentally licks one of Charles’ balls. The soft and velvety touch of the skin is heightened further by the golden liquid flowing down like hot lava journening over the mountain side to meet the sea. Charles hisses again, louder this time, and the space around them fills with a static energy, like lightening building up under stratus clouds. Trailing his tongue lower, Erik sweeps it over Charles’ hole.

‘Oh…’ Charles moans, his voice shuttering erratically. His legs on either side of Erik’s head begin to tremble. Bringing both his hands up around Charles' thighs, Erik begins to sweep his hands up and down the length of the Telepath’s thighs.

Collecting the pooling beads of the fluid that has dribbled down, Erik smears it evenly around the tender skin of the pink pucker, lazily at first, and then picking up pace. More fluid joins to aid the motion, and his spit reduces the resistance. He can hear Charles’ breath racing, and his own cock prosteing his negligence.

_Please, Erik,_ Charles says in his head. With the need for release dominating his senses more than anything, their little game has probably lost its lustre in Charles’ head.

Without warning, Erik plunges his tongue into Charles' hole, and the Telepath cries out. A set of hands come to fist in Erik’s hair, and the air around them bristles with lust, like sparks of electricity escaping the sky before thunder. Erik pulls his tongue out and pushes it in again. And again, and again, a little deeper each time, until the Telepath’s inner walls pulse and clamp down around Erik’s tongue.

Charles’ hips jerk twice. ‘Eri-’ he begins to say, but the name is engulfed by a wordless cry as Charles comes, pulling Erik headlong in. It’s like being hit by a lightning bolt. Raw electricity courses through Erik’s body and lights every nerve ending, fusing the synopsises with its force.

Erik opens his eyes to the feeling of Charles’ fingers carding through his hair. One of Charle’s legs is carelessly thrown over his back. The air around him is calm again, soothing and fresh, like the smell of wet earth that permeates into the atmosphere after torrential rains.

Erik’s arms and legs feel like jelly at the moment, but he still has a victory to be smug about. So he wills his limbs to move, and slots himself over Charles. The telepath’s lips have reddened further-- probably with Charles biting down on it to stop the sounds from slipping past them. It’s terribly tempting, luring Erik into sealing their lips together in a kiss. This time, Erik doesn't stop himself.

This kiss is nothing like their previous ones, where Charles had been mining his mouth for answers, and lifting them towards the peak of ecstasy. No. This kiss is sloppy and sweet, like milk and cream. Erik kisses Charles slowly, gliding his lips and tongue against Charles’ lazily, content and sated.

Freeing one hand from Charles’ side, Erik tugs the maroon band from Charles’ eyes. As if a testament to how much Charles has trashed his head against the pillow, the piece of cloth comes easily into hands.

Charles’ mouth slips past Erik’s lips, and the Telepath sucks at his chin, where Erik’s stubble has locked the witness from earlier intact. When they part, a smile blooms on Charles’ face. The Telepath opens his eyes, blinking the bleariness away before settling them on Erik. Even through the half mast of his eyelids, the blue of the Charles’ eyes is brighter than before.

‘It’s honey!’ Charles tell him, and he doesn’t need to get Erik’s confirmation that it is right.

‘Finally. You got one right without foul play.’ Erik smirks.

‘It’s honey,’ Charles repeats-- ignoring Erik-- through the giggles that bubble from his chest, appending a boyish quality to his features. ‘Come here, honey,’ Charles says, and extending both his hands, pulls Erik into a kiss.

_Happy Anniversary, Love,_ Charles sends into Erik’s head just before they both close their eyes.

This kiss is slow and deep, the two of them clinging onto each other. The waves of love and affection Charles projects post-orgasm is Erik’s favourite. He never could tire of the feeling. It caresses his racing mind, smoothens his frayed heart and dulls his sharp edges. It’s like experiencing the world in slow motion.

‘I won,’ Erik says redundantly when they break for air.

Charles eyes flutter open-- as if waking up from a happy dream-- a small smile curves around his swollen lips. ‘Well, congratulations, Darling,’ he says looking ready to nod off in an instant.

Erik frowns. ‘Don’t I get something?’

‘Oh!’ Charles smiles brightly at Erik, and kisses his cheek with a loud smack. ‘There,’ the Telepath says, brushing his thumb lightly over Erik’s cheekbones.

Erik’s frown deepens.

‘What?’ Charles asks, looking at Erik like a lost puppy in a park. ‘We didn’t set any prizes for the victor, love. This was just a little fun.’

Erik knows all of that, but not wanting to let the opportunity slip from his fingers, Erik says, ‘I know, but now that I _have_ won, I want something.’

Charles sighs, the way he always does when he’s about to indulge Erik for his antics. ‘Alright. What do you want? But if it is wanting to wear that awful helmet during sex, then it’s a no straight way.’

‘No, it’s not that.’ Erik clarifies. _Not this time at least,_ he thinks to himself. ‘I don’t want to attend your cousin's wedding next week.’

‘But I’ve already said that you’ll be coming,’ Charles protests, ‘Plus, whom am I going to dance with, if not you?’

‘Why does it have to be me? Take Raven. You can dance with her.’

‘Erik, you’re my husband, and it’s your duty to accompany me to boring weddings and stop me from drinking too much wine. It’s a spousal obligation. Moreover, Raven is flying to Paris tomorrow for a month, remember?’

Erik curses.

‘Oh, it’s alright, I guess’ Charles continues, ‘If you’re not willing, then I’m sure Logan will be. He won’t be opposed to dancing with me-’

‘Fuck it, I’ll come,’ Erik settles. Just the thought of he-who-shall-not-be-named in Charles’ proximity is almost enough to kill his good spirits.

‘Fantastic!’ Charles grins, sliding both his arms around Erik’s shoulders and pulling Erik snug over him. ‘I’m sticky all over. Wash me?’ Charles asks biting on Erik’s earlobe, voice deep-- the way it always gets when he’s trying to ward away sleep.

Erik has no qualms whatsoever; he’ll never complain over an opportunity to touch Charles' skin, but just to be difficult, he asks, ‘Why? Is it spousal obligation, too?’

‘No,’ Charles admits easily, ‘That’s just what I want for putting up with you for ten years.’ His flippancy is just for show, Erik knows, for Charles' words are laced with fondness and affection.

Moreover, the prospect only enthralls Erik. He’ll carry Charles to the bathroom, gently lower him into the warmth of the rose-petal-sprinkled water, press his fingers into Charles’ flushed skin and  knead them under his palms. He'll do all that in a moment. But for now, Erik settles further into Charles, and drifts off into the feeling of bliss.

-

**Author's Note:**

> To be skipped if you don't want to read the Author's rambling:  
> 1\. I have tagged this fic as best as I could. If you feel that the tags are inadequate, please do let me know, and I'll tag it appropriately.  
> 2\. Erik wanting to wear the helmet in bed was something I saw on Tumblr and decided that the mention would go well with the flow of the fic.  
> I tried to find the original post, but alas, it has been lost to the labyrinth that it Tumblr *sighs*  
> Do send me a link if you happen to stumble upon that post.  
> 3\. I love Xaverine, so I thought I'd make a mention of Logan's apparent on Charles (The fact he's married be damned)  
> I get immense joy in imagining Charles knowingly mentioning Logan in front of Erik just to rile him up *chuckles like a babboon*  
> 4\. I'm sorry if you expected d/s dynamics. I'm not really good with it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Thank you for reading! :D  
> Also, [JackyJango](https://jackyjango.tumblr.com) on Tumblr


End file.
